


Learning Curve

by Quillinky



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Gen, Phase One (Gorillaz)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-03-13 17:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18945571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillinky/pseuds/Quillinky
Summary: It's hard to grasp most things when you can't understand a word anyone is saying. But she was learning, at least. [Phase 1]





	1. Kong

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter [1/5]

As soon as she had karate-kicked her way out of the confines of that dark, musty Fed-Ex crate, she somehow knew from deep within her that some extra ordinary adventure lie in wait for her. 

Squinting against the harsh, bright overhead lights, she took in the surroundings of the new location with narrowed eyes. She found herself in large building foyer with murky mud-brown painted walls and bare concrete floor - it was void of any furniture or belongings, she noticed, save for three peculiar men who stood before her, each quietly bewildered by her unexpected appearance. 

She did not shy away from their wide-eyed stares, but instead leaned forward and quietly observed them, picking out the most prominent characteristic of each individual man; one of them had striking blue hair and empty, black eyes, the other had frosted white eyes, and the last - the oddest-looking one of the lot, she thought - had one blood red iris and sharp, green teeth. They all had unusually distinct eyes, she noted, and she wondered why. 

The silence eventually lingered a little too long between them for her liking, so she broke the tension first; she asked them who they were, where she was and why she was there, but they only stared blankly back at her, seemingly even more confused than before. 

The green-toothed man stepped warily towards her and asked her something, his tone questioning and guarded. All of his words were alien to her - she could not understand him.

Puzzled, her brows furrowed and she pressed a finger to her lips in thought. They did not share the same spoken language that much was apparent. So she had to find a new method of communication with these people - a universal medium they could all comprehend. She scanned the room, the cogs of her mind turning to try and generate a brainwave. When nothing came to her, she shifted her gaze downwards, hoping that that maybe the answer would spring out from beneath her feet instead. To her immediate delight, it did.

She knew straight away what to do. She didn’t know a lot - she couldn’t seem to recall anything prior to waking up in the crate, if she was being truthful - but she would do the one thing she absolutely knew she _could_ do without question. She seized the Les Paul that had traveled with her in the box, swung the strap over her shoulders and was silently grateful that she spent her time in transit tuning it, before working her magic on the strings. Her fingers moved deftly and with instinctive precision, it was all second nature to her - it was like she had known the instrument her whole little life. She played hard, fast, loud and without fault - it sounded _phenomenal_ , if she did say so herself. She ended the riff with an incredibly high karate kick through the air and landed at the feet of the tall man with the shock of azure hair - he made a high-pitched noise and stumbled back, tripping over his own untied shoelace in alarm.

Adrenaline coursed through her whole body and she toothily smiled. “Noodle!” she happily exclaimed, the word spilling out before she could even register what she was saying. She was briefly taken aback, not quite sure where the outburst had come from but she decided not to dwell too much on the matter, putting it down to the intensity of the moment.

All three men gawped at her. After a short time, they glanced to one another and they, too, broke out into cheek-splitting grins themselves. They conversed in their foreign tongue and the young girl wished she could listen in on the conversation, but they moved about enthusiastically and spoke in jubilant tones so she felt that was enough to know how they felt about her guitar-playing - the air rippled with electricity, and it was hard for Noodle not to get caught up in it. Even the man with the red eye had thrown his earlier caution to the wind; he now wore a fanged smirk. She beamed - she felt overjoyed that she had managed to connect to these strangers through her music and that they liked it too! 

The man with milky eyes walked over to her and stooped down to her eye level, smiling warmly. The young girl noted that he had a kind face, a tender demeanor. He spoke softly in a drawling accent and whilst she couldn‘t make out all of what he said, he kept repeating one word loud and clear that she did recognise through all the gibberish: Noodle. He lifted himself, placed a massive hand lightly on her back and steered her towards the lifts. She chattered animatedly to him all the way - about her guitar, her journey in the container, the questionable stains on the floor, and the funny smell hanging in the air, all the while forgetting to breathe in-between each topic; he simply nodded and smiled contentedly.

Keeping a firm grip on the neck of her guitar, she jumped into the lift as the doors screeched open, the big man following behind. Maybe she’d be allowed to live here for now then, she cheerfully thought. They weren't trying to kick her out of the door, that was for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gorillaz copyright to Damon Albarn & Jamie Hewlett!


	2. Russel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter [2/5]

They had been calling her Noodle since the day she arrived - they had obviously latched to the very first word that she had uttered to them that they could understand, after her spontaneous guitar riff, and christened her with it. She didn’t mind, in fact she embraced this moniker with pride, parading through the halls of the building constantly repeating her own name so that she made sure no one would forget it. In the first instance that she had claimed her new bedroom, she set out to scrawl it across the front of her door in the finest, most decorative handwriting she could muster. She had never felt as pleased as when she had stood back and admired her finished handiwork, splotches of coloured felt-tip ink staining her fingertips.

She had figured out the circumstances of her living arrangements the very first day, after the big man took her on an initial tour of her new residence. She had spied the dismantled keyboard strewn in pieces on the kitchen table, nestled amongst crumpled pages of scribbled-on sheet music, so she already had a hunch about who these men were, and how they spent their time. But it was when she saw the recording studio - cluttered with an array of instruments, and with it’s own integrated mixing desk - that she knew for certain that they were a band, and that they were musicians.

Noodle had marvelled at the wide open space of the studio, still clutching the Les Paul that she had carried with her all the way from the FedEx crate. She raised the guitar strap over her head and moved to position it onto an empty stand, situated between an immaculate burnt red and white bass and a vintage acoustic. It glinted in the overhead light, sparkling green, and she realised at that moment that this must have been why they had seemed so enthralled by her impromptu performance - they let her stay because they wanted her to join them. She allowed herself to be tempted by the idea that maybe she had been _destined_ to end up on their doorstep, with these people, and the thought almost made her burst with excitement.

Dealing with the language barrier proved to be bigger obstacle to overcome, but Noodle knew that if she intended on staying for a while with these foreign men, then this was something she would have to adapt to. 

Hand gestures and facial expressions became her preferred means of conveying her needs and feelings respectively. The boys had picked up on it immediately, and they too would converse with her this way - it was a simple method of communicating amongst each other, but it was but effective and worked well for them, and it quickly fitted into their daily way of life.

They would chat to her often, and the man with milky eyes, especially, would make a conscious effort to include Noodle in conversation where he could, but she struggled to make any sense of anything they said to her. She would sometimes try and partake, and break through with various attempts at articulating herself, but she knew by the perplexed faces she was met with that they shared the same linguistic difficulties. To their credit, they were never outwardly bothered by these hindrances, and seemed to take any challenge in their stride, so Noodle followed likewise, and chose to embrace their differences rather than fret about them.

Days rolled into weeks, and over the course of time, Noodle became increasingly proficient at being able to single out and recognise certain recurring words that she would hear from the boys, and as a result, she learnt each of their names much faster than it took to determine their individual characters. She felt that that was a good place to start.

*****

The mix-matched eyes belonged to Murdoc, with his flop of raven-black hair, mouldy teeth, and the brass upside down cross strung around his neck that he was never seemed to be without. 2D was the blue-haired being with deep, dark eyes; all long limbed, lanky and as pale as a ghost but he had a nice face and a goofy grin. But Russel, the milky-eyed man mountain with his big arms and shiny head, was her favourite, she had concluded. Noodle was drawn to his gentle disposition from the outset, and out of the three men, he was the one most attentive to her wants and needs, so she tended to stick by his side whenever they shared the same proximity. 

He had also proven himself to be an able teacher, a guiding light in helping her to overcome her language troubles and engage her in spelling, verbal skill and pronunciation, and simple mathematics. It had all began when Russel had approached Noodle one early morning after she had finished breakfast with a big clear pouch that she had watched him retrieve from a kitchen drawer. She craned her neck upwards, peering at him from underneath her helmet as he seated himself opposite and lain the folder between them, moving aside her empty cereal bowl.

“English.” He smiled as he emptied the contents of the pouch onto the table; there was a handful of cards, a tatty-edged notebook and a pack of gel pens. With Noodle’s interest piqued, she considered the options in front of her and then pointed at the cards first.

They were basic, crafted from cut-up cardboard and written in Russel’s own hand, but they served their fundamental purpose of teaching her English words and how to vocalize them. He would run through all of the cards, enunciating each syllable and encouraging her to say them back to him as best as she could. Following that, he would ask her to try and spell them. 

“Ok!” She beamed, grabbing a silver gel pen and smoothing down the spine of the notebook so that it lay flat. “Ok.” She uttered again, her tongue poking out in concentration as she got writing, using Russel’s cards as a visual guide.

She would spend an hour or two sat at the table, curving out each letter on paper and mouthing unfamiliar words, whilst Russel pottered about the kitchen, never too far away in case she needed assistance. She learnt a number of new things that day - she had practiced spelling her own name, her band mates names, the name of the band, and the name of the building they resided in. All important words she would need to know. 

They ended on some straightforward equations that Russel had already pre-written - which Noodle felt less enthusiastic about - and once she was finished, he would check through her efforts. 

“No S,” He commented, marking through the letter, written backwards, on the notepad. “The band is Gorilla, see? Don’t worry, sister, we‘ll work on doing your S‘s.”

Noodle looked down at the page, and pondered. “No! Gorillas!” She said, grabbing the pen from Russel‘s hand, and scribbled the flipped ’S’ again over the top of his crossing out, before counting four fingers on her little hand and holding them out for him to see. “No gorilla. Four gorillas!”

Russel stared at the correction, a smile steadily tugging at his lips and he patted her shoulder. He voiced some things which Noodle didn’t catch, but he didn’t amend her spelling again, so she was satisfied. Russel had given her the thumbs up and told her that she was a fast learner, and that they would pick up from where they left off next time. Feeling accomplished, she went about the rest of day with a spring in her step.

Since then, Russel had endeavoured to take the time out - usually just after breakfast, when the others would still be in bed - to spend with Noodle and keep up a routine of practising, and progressing, her studies. Not every lesson was as successful as the first, and there were moments where she grew so frustrated with herself that she would throw her pens to the floor and rip pages from the pad, but Russel saw her through with boundless patience. And she flourished with it - she became capable of stringing together straightforward sentences, her spelling had vastly improved, and she now tackled problematic words which would have given her such trouble before with rock-solid determination. Her overall comprehension of the English language was getting better with each lesson, even being able to understand snatches of dialogue from her band mates _and_ reply with her newly-learnt words! 

To show her appreciation, for all of his help, she would on occasion show Russel how to write and phrase Japanese characters, imparting some of her own linguistic knowledge onto him; it was an activity she took enormous delight in, his wobbly pronunciations making her giggle every time. Nevertheless, he was a diligent student, and a fast learner, too, just like her.

But as Murdoc liked to say, time was of the essence, and he had made it clear that his patience was starting to wear. Whilst they had already shared numerous sessions together in the studio to see how well they gelled as a collective, jamming with different instruments and experimenting with bloopy beats and punchy chords, Noodle could tell that he was itching to get down to business and have something complete committed to tape. So they stuck their heads together, and after careful deliberation, elected to flesh out the skeleton of a rough, early demo the boys had made before she had even arrived, with another guitarist. They dived headfirst into the song, and though it was admittedly a hard venture under Murdoc’s direction, Noodle felt exhilarated to be letting rip on her guitar again, adding her own musical touch to the composition. The long days locked away in the recording studio eventually paid off, producing ‘Ghost Train’, their very first track as a foursome. 

They celebrated with takeaway pizzas, and a hastily-arranged photo shoot in front of a giant, white bed sheet, hammered to a wall. Noodle noted Russel’s irked face when he saw it hung up, and sensed that it must have been one of his.

*****

They rocked the house with their explosive first gig, and by the end of the night they had cinched a record deal. Murdoc had always proclaimed, with self-assured certainty, that they were going to be global megastars one day; now it seemed that his vision edged nearer and nearer into becoming a very possible reality. 

With all of their signatures signed on the dotted line of their musical contract, they wasted no time in returning to the grim, rainy hilltop of their home and got to work on the album that would lead them into the mainstream. Many ideas, themes, and concepts were bounced around - and some resoundingly rejected - when it came to thinking up a sound, or vibe, that they could create for this new album, but what they all definitely could agree on, was that it should be something unique, vibrant, timeless. Something that was their sound. 

So, they spent most of their waking hours in the recording studio, pushing themselves to their full creative capabilities to lay the foundations for a number of new songs. The sessions were intense, and Noodle couldn’t ever remember working so hard in her life before, but she had never felt happier to be there, doing what she loved to do most.

Granted, it was not easy at times, being just a little girl. She would tire quicker than the adults, so there were days when she would be so drained after recording that she could barely muster the energy to enjoy any of her other favourite hobbies, like tinkering with her electronic toys or practicing some new karate moves, and more often than not she was left with sore fingers from playing her guitar too hard, and for too long. Murdoc would offer her picks, but she would refuse, merely applying plasters to the worst of the blisters and carrying on, because despite the pain, she liked to feel the thrum of the strings against her fingertips; it didn’t compare to anything else.

Noodle thought that her band mates must had been feeling the strain of relentlessly recording as well, when she entered the studio one evening, after briefly breaking from playing so that she could gather some late-night snacks for everyone, to find Russel and Murdoc quarreling. What about specifically, Noodle could not tell, as their words tumbled out too fast for her to comprehend, but Murdoc was red in the face, spitting as he swore, and Russel looked unimpressed, his irritation simmering beneath the surface of his calm, collected façade. So absorbed in their dispute, they hadn’t even noticed that she had returned, had dumped the numerous treats she laden herself with down by their feet, and wandered past them to retrieve her guitar from it’s stand to swing over her shoulders.

It wasn’t the first time Noodle had seen them clash. She never really knew what they fought about most of the time as she couldn’t understand enough of their words to make sense of the context - she still had a way to go with her studies with Russel - but what she had gleaned from general observation was that Murdoc in himself was not an easy person to live with, and that Russel had very little patience for dealing with his attitudes. There always seemed to be an underlying friction between the two, for some reason unbeknownst to her, which would occasionally seep out in the open and cause them to bicker. It could get heated at times, but it never escalated to anything serious, and they usually tended to end the same way - with Murdoc stomping off, huffing and puffing, to wherever it was he went to be left alone, until he had cooled off.

She heard both of them mention 2D’s name, the waspish edge to Murdoc’s voice contrasting against Russel’s own icy tone, and she looked to 2D, watching as he distractedly thumbed some keys on his melodica, stealing nervous glances at the pair from his position sat cross-legged on the floor. He caught sight of Noodle’s gaze on him, and smiled faintly at her. <\p>

She smiled back, and moved over to him, pinching a bag of crisps from the top of the pile of goodies she had brought down as she went. She extended them out to him with an outstretched hand, and 2D grinned, his tongue sticking out from the gaps where his two front teeth should be, and he accepted them as he mumbled his thanks.

She sat down next to him, manoeuvring the body of her guitar to rest between her own crossed legs. She flexed her plastered fingers, and began strumming idly, her other hand sliding along the neck as she decided to play the guitar line from the song they had been working on recently - it was a promising track, they unanimously agreed, with a dark-pop, thumping, sinister beat - seeing as the chords were still fresh in her memory.

Noodle plucked contentedly at the strings as 2D looked on, munching on his crisps, and her other bandmate’s voices fell into background noise. She almost lost herself in her own little world, the rhythm of the guitar becoming her only focus, until she heard Russel’s voice abruptly cut short, and an odd silence followed thereafter. She broke her concentration then, and turned her attention to him just as his eyes were starting to roll into the back of his head, and he fell face first onto his drums.

Worry hit all of Noodle’s senses at once.

She pushed the guitar from her lap and leaped towards Russel’s still frame, tugging at the collar of his shirt to try and rouse him, but to no avail. She called out to Murdoc, 2D - both of them - for help, her words spilling out fraught and garbled, when, suddenly, the temperature of the room plummeted dramatically, knocking the breath out of her, and goose bumps prickled up and down all of Noodle’s arms and legs.

She froze, and she had to do a double take when she thought she saw a transparent, neon-blue wisp snaking out from the top of Russel’s head. She held her breath, and tightened her hold on Russel’s shirt, and watched in stunned silence as the wisp soon moulded into the shape of a face, then a figure, which grew and grew until it towered above her, and the entire room.

“Demon!” Noodle cried, when she found her voice, and the use of her limbs, again. She jumped into a fighting stance, her arms out ready to defend herself and her band mates, if necessary. She glared fiercely at the blue figure. “Away! Go!”

The apparition laughed, not unkindly, to Noodle’s surprise, and drifted lazily down to face her, muttering in a deep, rumbling drawl which seemed to shake through her whole body. It sized up Murdoc and 2D in turn, before glancing around at his host and smiling fondly, a look which Noodle could only describe as love radiating from his big, white eyes. Russel stirred, and then as suddenly as it had arrived, the figure retreated back into his head again, like a genie being summoned back to his lamp.

Russel groaned, releasing the vice-like grip he had on his drumsticks to rub at his eyes. He gathered his bearings, noting the startled expressions of his band mates and hastily excused himself, lumbering out from behind his drum set and leaving the recording studio. Noodle, without sparing a glance at her other bandmates, ran out after him, hot on his tail.

She found him in the kitchen stood at the sink, looking out into the blackness of night through the uncovered window, a glass of water grasped in his huge hand. Russel must had seen her through the reflection of the window hovering in the doorway, because he instantly twisted around to face her. His body language was tense, guarded. And though he smiled at her, but his eyes didn’t.

“Russel?” Noodle’s voice delicately punctuated through stillness of the kitchen. When he didn’t respond straight away, she asked, apprehensively, “You ok?”

His facial features softened then. “It’s ok, Noodle. I’m ok. I just…” Russel looked thoughtful, as if he was unsure what to say. Noodle decided to fill in the gaps for him, and update him on the events that she had witnessed unfold in the recording studio.

“Your eyes roll back, then you fell! You were sick!” She said. “Then biiiig, blue man come out of your head!” She threw her arms wide-open, as far as she could, to really drive home how ginormous the figure had been.

“Blue man.” He repeated. Russel stood quietly, his gaze to the floor, and she could see his mind racing. “Could it be… He’s never done… I’ve spoken to him before, loads of times. In my head. But he’s never manifested…” He fixed his eyes on Noodle. “Did he say anything, at all?”

Noodle was slightly perturbed by Russel’s lack of reaction. Surely this would have been a shocking revelation for him, to know that a demon had emerged from his head, and was probably still lurking in there! She wondered if she was relaying the details correctly, or if she was she was definitely using the right words. “Um, no, I think. He look around at everyone. And you. It ok, though. I chase strange demon off!” She said.

“Demon?” Russel repeated, again. He chuckled then, a genuine laugh emanating the back of his throat. Noodle was even more confused now than she was before, and it must have shown on her face, because Russel then said, “No, no. He’s not a demon, Nood. He’s a friend. A very good friend of mine.”

“Oh,” was all Noodle could say. That did explain a few things, a bit, she supposed. “Why does friend live in head?” She enquired. 

“Oh, um, well.” Russel hesitated. “I’ve had lots of… friends in my head, since I was your age. But this is, was, a very special friend of mine. Called Del. But something bad happened, and I…” He stopped speaking then, and Noodle knew from the distant, unblinking look in his eyes that he was no longer there with her. He was instead regressing back to some deeply buried memory that Noodle could never fathom, or help him with. He looked haunted, and that made Noodle sad, so she wandered over to Russel’s side and gently rested a hand on his arm; a small comfort to let him know that she was there, however much she could be.

Noodle’s touch seemed to make him come to, and he blinked, and shook his head back into the present day. “Anyway, It’s not a story a young kid like you needs to hear.” His tone was resolute, nipping a bud in any notion of recounting that particular memory.

They lingered in silence for a time, and she looked at Russel’s fingers wrapped tightly around the glass of water in his hand. It looked tiny in his big hand, and she thought that it was a wonder that the glass hadn’t already shattered in his white-knuckle grip. She shifted her palm from his arm to brush her fingers against the top of his hand on the glass, and she craned her neck upwards to look at him. 

“Do I have friends here too?” Noodle asked, with a childlike innocence, tapping the side of her radio helmet with her other, free hand. “I’d like to have blue friend, too, if they nice.”

Russel allowed himself a smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Imaginary ones, maybe. Certainly not like the kind I get, I should hope!” He imitated Noodle’s movements, and poked the side of her helmet, which made her giggle. He relaxed then, and began talking about his friend, Del - his personality, his mannerisms, his talents, and his spirit; and as he spoke, the tension in his muscles loosened, the lines in his forehead melted away, and he wore the same fond smile and loving big, white eyes that his blue friend did when he saw Russel that first time in the recording studio.

“You and Del have, uh, same eyes.” Noodle said, remarking on the strikingly similar feature they shared. “Because you’re such best friends?”

“Well,” Russel mused. “Yeah… yeah. You know what? I think you might be right.” 

It was a strange answer, and she wasn’t too sure if he was saying yes or no, but she took it all the same.

Russel finished his glass of water, and knelt to her level. Noodle thought he looked more at ease again now, the Russel with warm eyes that she knew best. He pointed to the yellow cap atop his head and told her that it was one of Del‘s favourite’s of his, and asked if she wanted to see the rest of his personal collection. Noodle’s eyes lit up - Russel _did _own an enviable selection of hats - and she nodded eagerly.__

__“What about music?” She asked, as she clambered up Russel’s giant frame to sit upon his shoulders._ _

__“We’ll carry on tomorrow.” He assured her, grabbing a hold of an ankle to stabilise her. “But now, I think it’s time to call it a night.”_ _

__She swiped the cap from Russel’s head and placed it on top of her own. It sat awkwardly on top of her helmeted head, and it was far too big, the ridge of the cap falling down over her eyes, which obscured her view. But she was happy. And Russel seemed happy again now, and that was all that mattered, really._ _

__*****_ _

__Russel wasn’t around when Noodle had padded down to the kitchen the next morning for her next English lesson, so she leisurely made her own breakfast and thought about the day ahead as she ate, wondering what new words she would learn._ _

__He strolled through the doorway just as she was downing the remainder of the milk from her cereal bowl - her head tipped right back to try and catch every last drop - with a large envelope tucked under his arm. He laughed, and moved to sit beside her, and she looked on as he pulled out a photograph from inside the envelope and slipped it underneath her nose. It was a picture of herself, Russel, Murdoc & 2D - the band - encapsulated in a glossy still from the unprofessional photo shoot they had done not so long ago, with Russel’s bed sheet nailed to the wall as a backdrop. And standing boldly against the white, minimal background, a black graffiti-style ‘Gorillaz’ was printed at the top of the image._ _

__Noodle hopped gleefully from her seat and smiled ear-to-ear at Russel, a milky moustache resting on her upper lip. “See! Gorillaz!” She exclaimed, the band name rolling effortlessly off her tongue. “Better, no?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gorillaz copyright to Damon Albarn & Jamie Hewlett!


	3. 2D

Jamaica was like nothing she had ever seen before. Much more colourful and full of life than England was. And it was so much _hotter_.

White hot sandy beaches spanned as far as her eye could see, bordered by towering palms trees that swished in the light wind blowing off the sea. The late afternoon sun was not as scorching as it had been earlier on in the day, but she still felt the heat beating down onto her back and shoulders. She was thankful that she had packed her sunhat for the trip, instead of her helmet which it was far too clunky for warm Caribbean weather. She hoped that it might even give her hair a chance to fully grow back out.

She sat at the edge of the beach alone, and watched as warm waves splashed over her feet and receded back into the sea again, leaving a foamy film on her painted toes. She found herself mesmerised by the hypnotic repetition of the motion of the waves, continually lapping and receding. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the surf and bird song drifting through the air and she allowed herself to be lulled into a state of peace.

No sooner had she thought how tranquil it was without the boys bickering and generally being noisy, 2D had come bounding down the beach in his swimming shorts, scaring off the birds, and racing towards the sea with an inflated rubber ring in hand. He skimmed past her and leaped in with reckless abandon, oblivious - or just with no care at all - to the fact that he had splashed Noodle with seawater in the process. 

“Hey!” Noodle whined. _Well, it was nice whilst it lasted_ , she thought. “2D!”

2D turned to the sound of his name, strands of wet blue hair plastered to his face, and smiled sheepishly at her. “Wha‘? I didn‘t soak you, did I?”

“Yes!”

“Sorry, love.” 2D apologised, the faintest smile still on his lips, and with a tone that suggested he was not sorry at all. After a pause, he added, “But, uh, seeing as you’re already wet an’ all now, you could come into the sea too! I brought my rubber ring, look. Oh, and you could do some snorkelling with that set Russ got you from the airport, if you fancy!”

Noodle vaguely wondered if that was his plan all along. She feigned a childlike frown, then smiled when she couldn’t hold it any longer. “Yes, ok. Fine. Rubber ring. Then snorkelling!” She jumped up from her seat on the sand and followed 2D into the temperate water, who was now smiling broadly.

“I didn’t actually say you could get a go on _my_ rubber ring, I just said that I brought it with me.” 2D said playfully, sticking his tongue out at her. Noodle responded by launching herself at him, knocking him off his feet, and sending them both crashing beneath the waves.

*

Their days were spent at their leisure, sunning themselves on the beach or bathing in the sea, exploring the unspoilt natural landscape, shopping in the nearby town precinct, or, if you were Murdoc, drinking copious amounts of rum like a pirate and shimmying up coconut trees - and nearly falling out of them - whilst intoxicated, then spending the following mornings lying flat on a sunbed, nursing a hangover and cursing the day that they were born.

It was during the night time hours that their real work began, their sole purpose for being in Jamaica in the first place. They had a producer ready at the helm for the album, helping them to breathe new life into the original songs they had created at Kong. They would sweat, play and muscle their way right through to the early hours, sometimes until the first rays of dawn shone on the horizon, depending on how much progress they thought they were making.

She would always arrive at the studio early, earlier than any of her band mates were due to be there. She took the opportunity by herself to spend some time practising with other instruments that the producer had flown in and brought into the studio. With the exception of Murdoc’s devil red and white bass - which he told not to touch under any circumstances whatsoever - she practically had free reign to play whatever she wanted to her heart’s content. 

She found 2D sat at his synthesiser when she entered one early evening, which she had not been expecting. He evidently did not hear her footsteps approaching, nor would he have been able to see her in the doorway with his back to her. He was seemingly immersed in whatever he had in his lap, hunched over the keyboard. He appeared to be writing.

She knocked gently so as not too alarm him. “2D.”

2D raised his head, and regarded her with a toothless smile. “Hey Noods.”

She smiled back, and moved to sit next to him on the wooden bench he was perched on. She could see now that he had a notebook and pen in his hands, inky scrawls covering every inch of the lined paper. She peered closer to try and get a better look, leaning her head against 2D’s arm, but reading some English still proved quite a challenge for her, especially when it was written in 2D’s unintelligible handwriting. “Writing?” She enquired.

“Yeah, just some lyrics an’ stuff. I‘m thinkin' about updatin' a few for our songs, and I’ve been messin' about with some keys as well. Wanna hear?”

Noodle nodded enthusiastically. 

“Brill! Ok, how ‘bout this. I‘m pretty chuffed with this one. I think it sounds proper catchy, like.”

2D set aside his notebook, placed the pen behind his ear and began running his fingers along the keys of the synthesiser, playing a simple, but happy and cheerful tune which made her want to tap her feet along with the beat. She listened intently to 2D’s sweet singing, not fully grasping every single word he sang, but it was enough to just sit and hear him. She caught onto the chorus after the second time round, and synchronised her voice in time with his. “Shoeshine!” She sang along, “Get the cool shoeshine!”

“’Ey, you’re not a bad singer, you know.” 2D told her between breaks. 

Noodle welled with pride at the compliment. She spent the last couple of hours before Russel and Murdoc turned up showing 2D her progress with the various instruments she had being toying with, and he praised her talent with one of his favourites, the melodica, and encouraged her to keep practising. 

_He is happier_ , Noodle had noted, as he took an excitable interest in demonstrating to her all the components of his synthesizer. Much happier compared to when we were at home, anyway. Maybe the golden sunshine and warmer climate was having a positive effect on him. He was still pale white and ate very little, but the harsh dark rings around his eyes were softening, he was less jumpy than he usually was, and whenever she passed him by, he smiled brighter, and more often. She reasoned that it also probably had something to do with the fact that Murdoc had not been looming over him like a big black rain cloud as of late, like he had been in the initial stages of creating the album, he himself loosened up by the more relaxed, steady pace of working, and maybe possibly the Pina Coladas he’d have with breakfast helped him along somewhat. 

2D presented his new lyrics to Murdoc that evening in the studio, also passing in mention that he & Noodle had shared a small impromptu vocal session together. Murdoc turned to face her. “You can sing?” He questioned. 

Noodle looked to 2D, who gave her a reassuring nod. She started humming the melody she had learnt earlier with 2D earlier that day, and then began singing a little ditty in her native tongue, one that she could never remember ever learning, but one which was strangely familiar to her once she sang it out loud, and - to her surprise - knew by heart.

When she had finished, Murdoc was smiling a sharp smile.

“Well, why didn‘t you say you could sing before!” He said to her, in a pleased voice. “Oh, right, sorry. Of course you can’t. You could have _shown_ us though.”

Murdoc considered her for a moment, stroking his chin, deliberating. “I didn’t plan on including a female singer on the album, but maybe we could work with that.” He turned to 2D, and flicked him on the ear. “Good job for coaxing that voice out of her, Dents. No one would have bleeding known otherwise."

Russel concurred, stating that it would be an excellent idea to have a female vocal on the album, but also suggested the notion that whilst Noodle’s singing ability was good and sweet and pleasant, it was not as strong as 2D’s, and that it might work better if they focused on harmonising their voices together. She’d bring a lighter, bouncier texture which would balance out 2D’s melancholic undertones, he remarked, indicating that it may well prove to be just what they needed to turn some of the good songs they already had under their belt into great songs. It was another option they could utilise from their musical repertoire. 

“See, and that’s why you’re in my band, Russ. For observations like that, right fucking there.” Murdoc responded, then voiced some lewd comment about what was underneath his own belt, which earned him an unimpressed look from Russel.

“Swear!” Noodle exclaimed, her ears prickling at what she had come to know as a ‘bad word’, a lesson she’d learnt very early on with Russel that she was not to repeat or copy herself, no matter how flagrantly she heard them being used, or how often Murdoc would teach her otherwise.

She had picked up the idea of introducing a swearing penalty on her bandmates from a film she had watched with 2D one day, an idea in which she found she was profiting greatly from.

“Right, right, whatever.” Murdoc grumbled, rooting through his back pockets, picking out a manky-looking £1 coin. He blew the lint from it, and flipped it at Noodle, who caught it swiftly with both hands. “Don’t spend it all at once, will you kiddo.”

Noodle flashed him a smile, and immediately pulled a small bulging purse from her jacket, adding it to the other coins she had earned from her bandmate’s bad habits, and tucked it safely back in her pocket. 

If they kept at it, she wagered that she would soon be able to afford that remote control chimp that she had her eye on from the window display in the toy shop back home.

*

Noodle woke with a start, with clammy hands and sweat sticking to her skin and night clothes, and a sense of foreboding in the pit of her stomach that she could not place. She did not know what had roused her initially, but she soon recalled that she had been dreaming.

That was an unusual occurrence in itself, as she was not normally a dreamer, nor did she suffer nightmares. At least, she didn’t think that she did, or had.

She could not pinpoint what she dreamt about exactly, only being able to recollect snatches of hazy images and sounds - blurred faces, children‘s voices. All of which seemed to oddly stir some faint semblance of familiarity within her, the same feeling that came to her when she sang that song in the studio earlier on in the day. 

It was only a dream, she reminded herself. There was nothing particularly frightening or upsetting she could remember about it. _So then why did she feel uneasy?_

Noodle untangled herself from her thin, linen bed sheets, and stretched the weariness from her limbs. The only noises she could hear, besides her own breathing, were the crickets and the rolling waves. 

She was tired, but felt too hot and sweaty to fall back to sleep now, being stuck inside this muggy, humid room. She needed fresh air. And she needed to shake off this strange unsettled feeling.

Noodle stood and shuffled barefoot to the door of her beachside hut, quietly opening it and slipping outside. It was still dark out, a canopy of stars twinkling in the cloudless sky, and there was a mild breeze in the air which helped in cooling her down. Moonlight broke the pitch blackness of night and illuminated the landscape around her, shining across the rippling sea and bouncing off the white walls of the studio opposite her cabin a few metres away, where she spied the outline of skinny figure with spiky hair sat atop the flat roof of the building. 

Shadows darkened the more identifiable features of the figure, but she did not need the light to recognise who it was. She could recognise his silhouette anywhere.

It was the distraction she was looking for. 

She neglected to put any shoes on before sauntering up to the studio door, and ascending the stairs upwards. There was no door separating the flat open roof from the last set of concrete stairs, so she passed over the threshold and padded over towards the figure, who had his back to her. He heard her coming, and looked around at her with red-rimmed black eyes. He was sat on the edge of a flat wall that faced out towards coast, his long legs dangling over the edge of the rooftop. His scribbled-on notebook and pen lay next to him, along with a Dictaphone, and an acoustic guitar.

“Awright.” 2D said dreamily, with glassy black red eyes. “Uh… shouldn’t you be in bed? It‘s pretty late.”

“Nightmare.” She said. It wasn’t a lie, but she wasn’t exactly telling the truth either. She did not really want to talk about a feeling she could not explain herself to someone else at the moment, even if that person was 2D. Not only that, she felt that her level of English vocabulary still wasn’t broad enough to adequately convey what she felt.

“Oh.” He responded. “I used to get them all the time as a kid. My mum would say it was all the knocks I had to my head.” He added, absent-mindedly.

He was smoking, a joint hanging loosely between his fingers. It wasn’t a rare sight to see, and it was a smell she was familiar with; one which often emanated from 2D‘s bedroom and Murdoc‘s Winniebago. But this one smelt more potent and overpowering. The stench clung to the inside of her nostrils and she sneezed.

2D suddenly became aware of the joint in his hand. “Ah, bugger. Hang on.” He shifted away from Noodle, raising the joint to his lips and taking a deep drag, blowing smoke out in the air, out of her general direction. He gently placed it on the ground at arm‘s length away from himself. “You shouldn’t really be seein’ that.” He said, taking on an air of responsibility. “I weren’t expectin’ any visitors, is all.” 

“Not sleepy?” Noodle quizzed.

“I’m always awake at this time.” 2D said, as if it were universal knowledge. “I don’t usually conk out until about 4am, unless I’m _really_ knackered. Or sick. But we’ve been workin’ so late recently, I just don’t sleep, not ‘till about mid-morning.”

“Ah.“ Noodle clambered onto the wall that 2D was balanced on and sat beside him, mimicking his position and swinging her own legs over the edge. 2D looked a little nervous at her proximity to the edge of the roof, and the height from themselves to the beach below. “Be careful please, yeah? I don’t want you fallin' off here.” He fretted. 

“I won’t! Promise.” Noodle lifted and wiggled her pinky finger, and gave him as reassuring an expression as she could. “More lyrics?”

“Yeah, sort of,” 2D replied, linking his own pinky with hers and squeezing, though her assurances did nothing to ease his apprehension. “I’ve been notin’ down a few keys, and some chords, too. I got loads of ideas jiggling around in my head, I just wanted to get ‘em on paper before I forget, which I do quite a lot. Forget, I mean. I wanted to record some samples of the cricket noise, as well. I think they sound wicked.” 2D enthused, waving the Dictaphone. “I like it here, in Jamaica. There’s somethin’ mystical about bein’ up early here, when it’s just me and the crickets. It feels magic, like livin’ in a different world that no one else knows about. Only me. I suppose that might sound quite isolatin’ to some people, but I really like it. Makes me feel... inspired.”

Noodle remained silent, listening to 2D run off on a tangent. He usually got quite emotive, and talked a considerable amount, when he had been smoking the smelly stuff. And he reeked of it, right now.

“It’s a different feelin’ in England.” 2D resumed. “If I tried to do this on the balcony at home, I’d get piss wet through. It’s hard to feel inspired when your cold and soaking.”

Noodle giggled softly, which prompted 2D to smile, and he turned to look out across the sea, the moonlight reflecting off his big black eyes.

“Do your eyes hurt?” Noodle asked, voicing a curiosity which had been niggling away at her for some time.

2D detached his gaze from the coastal scenery, and blinked at her. “Urm… No. Not really. They did at the time. I just can’t see as clearly as I did before. Some things are fine, but some things are pretty blurry and undefined, normally when I’m looking at something from far away.”

Noodle nodded. “Accident?”

2D chuckled quietly, but there was an underlying bitterness to it that Noodle did not fail to notice. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment or two, with 2D picking at non-existent threads from his shorts. “It was Murdoc’s doing, really.” He told her in a stiff tone, the words spilling out. “Hit me with his car. Twice. One for each eye. I used to have normal-looking brown ones before.” 

2D fell into silence again, but this time she felt the mood shift drastically, and the air became noticeably heavy. His calm and breezy movements and demeanor only moments before had turned sour, his whole body went taut and he stared dead-ahead out across the sea with narrowed, hardened eyes.

Noodle remained silent with him, her hands resting underneath her knees, gently swinging her feet back and forth, afraid of breaking the fragile mood she had instigated, of saying the wrong thing in case she upset him. Then, suddenly, he turned to her, his facial features loosened and lifted, and he cracked a small smile. “Hey, but I guess if that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have met you, or Russ. And I wouldn’t be makin’ music with you.” He said cheerily, his darkened mood forgotten, almost like it never happened.

Noodle chewed her lip, and mulled over what 2D had told her. She was aware that Murdoc treated 2D differently, much more differently - and severely - than how he treated her and Russel, and she was not shocked to learn that Murdoc had been the cause of 2D’s terrible, permanent injuries; she had seen enough of his nature to know that he was perfectly capable of doing that to him. 

What she found the strangest concept of all was why 2D was in favour of living and working with someone as unpredictable and temperamental as Murdoc, someone who would hurt him, whilst he had family who lived not too far away, and yet he hardly ever visited. Not that she wanted him to leave, not at all. She just found it a bit perplexing, the choices that adults made. As if reading her mind, 2D answered her unspoken questions.

“He mapped a life out for me. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do before this. I dossed about a lot, watched footie, worked at my uncle’s shop at weekends, messed ‘bout with electronics. I liked tinkerin’ about with old keyboards with my Dad, but I didn’t plan on being a musician, or even a singer, for that matter. I just liked tinkerin‘.”

“After the accident, Murdoc was the one who really pushed the idea of me being a musician. He kept tellin’ me how brilliant my singin’ was, how good I looked, and how well I played, and it spurred me on. No one else had ever given me that sort of encouragement before, and he still does, sometimes. He felt like the only proper mate I’d ever known, at the time. Mum and Dad weren't keen, told me I shouldn‘t be chasin‘ a pipedream, ‘specially with the guy who nearly killed me. They ain't particularly happy with my choices.” 2D ended, sounding resigned.

Noodle lowered her head. She felt bad for inquiring, because now she had made 2D feel sad, and that was not her intention. All because she just wanted to satisfy some silly curiosity of hers. 

“Do you ever think about your Mum and Dad?” 2D asked inquisitively, moving the conversation on from himself. 

Noodle had never really dwelled on the idea of having a mother and father, but she supposed that she _must_ have parents residing… somewhere, in the world. But she felt no sense of longing to seek them out. She didn’t feel she needed to, as she felt quite safe and happy where she was, with who she was.

Nevertheless, she tried to think back - really think back - to her life before waking up at Kong Studios. She could recall nothing. No familiar faces, no previous home life, not even any past events, like birthdays, or holidays, or having any friends of her own age to play with. Just…nothing. The only possession she carried that had a connection to her to her past was her guitar. She did not know whether that should concern her more than it did. 

Noodle shook her head.

2D looked at her dolefully, and gently patted her back. “Let’s forget about all that, yeah? Wanna hear another song I got going?”

She did, and told him so.

They stayed up on the roof, 2D treating Noodle to a vocal performance of a brand new tune, as atmospheric and mystic as the private world of his that inspired him to create it. She insisted they record it on the Dictaphone, with Noodle providing a soft and soulful guitar line on the acoustic as a backing to his vocals. They even managed to pick up the chirping of the crickets that 2D had so eagerly wanted to capture. 

After a while, sleepiness began to take a hold of both of them and their momentum slowed. With numb bums and creaky joints - more from 2D, than from Noodle - they decided to call it a night and left to retire to their respective accommodation. The joint which 2D had so gently placed to one side when she had joined him on the roof was now back in his possession, held tight between two fingers, and Noodle saw him light up again just before she slipped through her beach hut door.

She crawled back into bed, pulling the sheet over herself and fell asleep not long after her head hit the pillow. She did not dream again that night.

*

“All buckled up?” Russel asked, tugging at the tail end of her seat belt.

“Yep!” Noodle replied, watching the baggage handlers heave luggage onto the conveyor belt that rolled towards the under compartment of the plane. She broke her gaze from the cabin window as the air stewardess came around to ensure she was securely fastened into her seat, informed them that they would soon be ready for take-off, and offered her a big lollipop for the journey home.

Noodle reclined into her seat, making a start on unwrapping the lollipop. “I could of flown in my box.” She told Russel, her speech somewhat stifled by the sugary sweet in her mouth.

“Not a chance,” Russel asserted. He peered left and right, to ensure no one was eavesdropping and lowered his voice and head to her level. “Kids don’t get chucked in with all the suitcases in the baggage compartment, even if you _have_ done before. You‘re all good here.”

“Cheaper though.” She informed him.

Russel rolled his eyes, and released an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, and Murdoc’s a jackass for telling you that. Don‘t pay him too much mind, he talks mostly out of his ass anyway.”

Noodle shrugged, lollipop now delegated to one side of her mouth, the stick protruding from her lips. “Game?”

“In your pack, sister.” He said, retrieving a small backpack from underneath her overhanging feet. He rummaged around in the bag for a moment, before pausing and raising an eyebrow at her. “Well it’s a good job you brought your entire game library with you, might have been a long flight otherwise.” He chuckled, pulling out a red handheld gaming device and passing it too her.

She mumbled her thanks in her own tongue, and accepted the device. She glanced at Russel, who was withdrawing a pair of earphones and a music player from his pocket, and placed the buds in his ears and settled himself in for the flight back.

They still had more work to do, when they got home. The album was now complete on their side, and it had now been sent for final mixing and enhancements. In the mean time, she and Russel would have to outsource someone to aid them in producing a music video for a new single. It was a big responsibility, and one she was happy to help Russel undertake. Murdoc and 2D had seemed happy with that decision too, as it meant that they could linger a little bit longer in the sun, by the beach. She wondered momentarily if they were getting along.

She turned on the gaming device. The start-up jingle of her favourite game sounded and she soon pushed aside whatever thoughts were rolling around her head, losing herself to a world of fantastical creatures and wondrous quests. She decided that work could wait for now.


End file.
